


跟你開心 (Happy With You)

by AeonWing



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Pillow Talk, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonWing/pseuds/AeonWing
Summary: MrRallez and Biofrost share a heartfelt conversation in bed one night.





	跟你開心 (Happy With You)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry Pengwang shippers.  
> No I am not hating on Pengwang.  
> Yes I will continue Unbroken Vows~ I promise (That won't be broken haha) 
> 
> I just adore MrRallez and want to give him a chance.

_“I love you, not only for what you are, but for who I am when I’m with you.”_

**\--- Roy Croft**

 

It was late. Later than Vincent had been expecting, later than he had planned for. How late exactly, he wouldn’t be able to answer. He can only count each passing second by the constant, faint sound of running water. He smiles to himself, hoping that he didn’t steal _all_ the hot water from earlier. It’s dark, and honestly slightly cold in the familiar room. Perhaps that’s also due to there being nothing between his warm skin and the soft sheets and blankets.

Finally, the sound of running water ceases, and like heat melting ice, inevitably causes a wave of anticipation to wash over him. It isn’t long until he hears the soft creaking of a door being opened. He knows he doesn’t have to worry, knows no one else is awake around this time. It’s a little unfortunate that it’s already so late, but losing an hour of sleep is a small price to pay.

“Hey,” Rasmus whispers from outside, soft and barely audible. It’s just a little too dark for Vincent to see him clearly, even with the dimly lit nightlamp by his side. His face pulls into a frown, and he can only feel relieved when Rasmus finally comes in, the soft clicking of the lock a reassuring reminder that they are _alone_. That no one can interrupt them.

“Hey,” he whispers back, a smile forming on his lips when Rasmus drops the towel around his waist, like shedding dead weight. He throws it aside, joining their shared pile of clothes on the carpet.

Vincent moves over, just barely enough space for Vincent to join him on the rather large bed. He can feel the bedframe creak under their combined weight, the sudden movement causing a chuckle to escape his lips. It’s silenced only by the comfort of Rasmus’ lips, and Vincent answers the kiss almost too eagerly, too quickly.

It doesn’t take long for Rasmus to answer back, falling head first into the comfortably small frame that was Vincent. There’s a noted desire, passion in the way Rasmus kisses, something that entirely makes up for inexperience.

Whether by chance or intuition, Rasmus keeps finding every little thing that Vincent loves. Small gestures like he does now, sliding one hand into Vincent’s hair to tug at the strands. Small things like the gentle fingers that stroke his cleanly shaved face. Vincent’s response is instinctive, head dipping back to bare his throat and then Rasmus is right there, mouthing at the delicate skin, claiming Vincent’s surrender, mouth hot and wicked and by the heavens, Vincent has no answer to this.

They kiss again, this time uninterrupted, a little more passionate. Vincent once more gets lost in it for a while, and it’s only the need for oxygen that causes them to separate. Lying on their sides, noses touching makes up for all of it. It’s still too dark to make out the finest, most intricate details of Rasmus’ eyes, but it doesn’t diminish his unadulterated beauty. Nothing could.

“Guess that makes up for today, huh?” Rasmus asks, lifting a free hand to stroke his boyfriend’s face, garnering a warm smile from the boy. “I’m so sorry about that. We still… Have a bit to work on.”

Vincent merely shakes his head, unhesitatingly returning the touch. His fingers once more graze over Rasmus’ soft skin, the trapped moisture still evident, lapping gently against the tips of his pale fingers.

“It’s alright. I’m just glad you’re here with me,” he whispers back, gently pressing their foreheads against one another, so close that he can _hear_ , he can _feel_ the individual breaths that leave Rasmus’ lips. It takes an incredible amount of self-control to not just give in to temptation and kiss again, make love again. “It’s…I…I should be the one to apologize…”

Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to try.

“Don’t,” Rasmus sighs, gently rolling on his back to give Vincent some space to cuddle a little closer. The difference in height is staggering, yet Vincent can’t help but feel how warm and perfect it is, comfortably resting his head against Rasmus’ shoulder. His arm ghosts over, faintly brushing against his exposed chest. It’s… comforting.

It’s something he hasn’t really felt for a long time.

“But…”

“It was Peter, wasn’t it?” Rasmus suddenly asks, exhaling softly. Despite the attempt to hide any expression, Vincent can hear the slightest touch of worry. Something so subtle, just the slightest waver in the tone of his voice. “I mean, I know you used to…”

He doesn’t get that far. It’s uncharted territory, and it’s not really something they’ve spoken about. The facts are all there, laid out on the table, but none of them had been ripe for the picking. It worries him a little, despite everything. A slight shadow of doubt amidst a relentlessly sunny Vincent by his side.

Vincent shudders a bit. It’s involuntary, and he can’t quite tell if it’s the room that’s suddenly dropped in temperature or just his imagination. It’s not Rasmus’ fault. He’s never opened up about this, however obvious it may have appeared to the outside eye.

Better late than never.

“Yeah… I… I did…” He finally whispers, averting his gaze from the ceiling, yet dutifully evading Rasmus’ gaze. “I…I did, didn’t I?”

The days had become weeks. The weeks had become months. Yet in spite of all that, he couldn’t deny that the ache still existed. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him, it wasn’t fair to Peter, and it most certainly wasn’t fair to Rasmus.

Even after all that’s happened it’s still there, somewhere. Somewhere deep and buried.

“Vincent…” He whispers softly, gently caressing Vincent’s exposed cheek. His skin is smooth and delicate, but even Rasmus can trace the lines where tears must have fallen not too long ago. Such beauty marred by tears. “Do you want to tell me more about that now?”

The world feels timeless, as if the seconds that pass could be hours. Everything slows to a standstill, and it’s only the calm, rhythmic breaths that leave Rasmus’ lips that anchor Vincent to reality as he thinks back. He closes his eyes. And in that instant, he sees everything.

 

_ Earlier that day: _

_“Vincent, how are you holding up?” Peter asks, casually draping an arm over Vincent’s slim shoulders. He jumps a little at that, feeling the familiar sensation of warmth enter his cheeks._

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair to him. It’s not fair to Rasmus._

_He glances over, almost involuntarily._

_But it’s not at Peter whom he first lays his eyes on. It’s Rasmus. The boy who watches from behind, taking in every detail during their scrim block… And perhaps more._

_How long has it been? Weeks? Months almost?_

_There’s the slightest pang of discomfort that crosses the Dane’s face, and Vincent can’t help but feel sorry for him… And upset at his inability to control his own emotions. It looks so obvious. Anyone can see the struggle that lies within._

_Why? Why must it still hurt so much?_

_“Vincent?” Peter asks again, this time with a touch of concern._

_Always that damn touch of concern._

_Damn it all._

_But he has to respond. Enough time has passed that failure in doing so will be perceived as a far greater problem than it really is. His eyes are still on Rasmus, who in turn has averted his gaze, if only slightly. There’s an equal layer of hurt in those beautiful eyes that make Vincent uncomfortable._

_Because those are the very same eyes he once had._

_And perhaps still did._

_“I’m okay…” He finally responds, letting out a sigh. “I’m just tired.”_

_He’s tried his hardest to mask the jitters. He must have been successful. Fooling Peter had never been too difficult of a task, and if there’s one thing he’s grateful for, it’s just that. Yet nonetheless, it’s a double-edged sword._

_Maybe Peter never saw past the perpetual smile and sunny disposition._

_Maybe it was for that same reason that Peter never noticed anything. Nothing._

_“Well, you still got one more scrim block,” Peter murmurs, absent-mindedly stepping away. There’s a soft, muffled ring, and Vincent can feel his heart skip a beat. “Rasmus will be playing with you next block.”_

_Because he knows that ringtone. He’s heard it so many times._

_It’s Bonnie._

_Always Bonnie_.

 

_ Now: _

“So, that’s why…” Rasmus whispers.

The atmosphere of the room has become ambivalent. Neither warm nor cold, but there’s an air of mild discomfort that persists nonetheless. It’s… Frightening. There’s no other word to describe it. The air of uncertainty.

“Rasmus I.. I’m sorry,” Vincent closes his eyes again, sighing softly. “I know… I know this isn’t right of me. I know… It isn’t fair for you… For us.”

His voice wavers. He doesn’t want to cry, not here, not now. Because he knows it’s unfair. But Rasmus is the one and only person he truly feels comfortable doing it in front of. The one and only person he knows who won’t judge him for who he is.

And for every imperfection.

It’s so unfair.

Rasmus doesn’t reply. Or at least, not immediately, and it causes a wave of unease to pass by. Vincent bites his lip, almost involuntarily, almost thoughtlessly. He’s never been afraid to tell the truth to Rasmus. Or at the very least not be dishonest.

Yet he cannot fathom what response such an admission would garner. He knows. He’s sure that Rasmus already knew. Or at least he had suspected. Suspected… And never said a word. Kept silent, only communicating through the slightest change in his eyes, in his voice.

Silent, but not unheard.

“This is wrong of me, isn’t it?” Vincent whispers, exhaling sharply. First instinct tells him to turn away, second desire tells him to stay close. It’s difficult to reconcile. On one hand, he feels guilt and shame, yet on the other hand he wants this too. Was it wrong to want two people? Was it wrong to continue this relationship this way?

_Why?_

He hadn’t expected what happened next. Perhaps Rasmus would’ve turned away, perhaps he would have just stayed in awkward silence. But no. Instead, Vincent feels strong arms gently tug at him, pulling the two of the closer once more. He feels gentle fingers tugging at his thin frame, exactly where they were not too long ago. They feel as good now as they did then.

“Don’t be afraid,” Rasmus whispers, almost a soft sigh, almost a coo. There’s a certain depth of sympathy and compromise, layered perfectly. It’s something… It’s something that Vincent hasn’t had the liberty to hear for far too long.

It’s something he wishes Peter had said to him, months ago.

It feels… Comforting. So he turns back around to face the tall Dane. But when he lays his eyes on the boy’s perfect, pale visage, he sees something he wasn’t expecting.

It was a stray tear.

_Compromise._

Rasmus was hurting. It wasn’t a painless, flawless victory. It was anything but perfect. He was hurting, but he was willing. It’s so unfair, Vincent feels. He doesn’t deserve someone like this.

But he can’t help it.

If the shields he spent so long building up were cracked before this, then surely now they must be shattered. Quietly broken, as if they had never been there in the first place. He cannot fake, cannot lie. Because when either of them cry, he’s unspoken.

What was it that he had felt? For Peter?

What was it?

He was so certain he had it correct. He was so certain that those feelings he had must have been love. Unrequited love, but still love. But now he realizes that wasn’t true. Love knows no boundaries, and while he’s certain that the feelings for Peter are still there, they will never be as strong as what he feels now.

Their gazes are locked, and Vincent really gets to see the beauty in the Dane’s perfect eyes. There are layers upon layers of depth and complexity within those never-ending pools. There’s understanding, there’s compromise.

But most importantly, Vincent sees himself through those lenses. He sees _them_.

“Do you think you’ll be happy with me?” Rasmus suddenly asks.

That stops Vincent in his tracks. It’s not a question that he had been expecting. It carries the weight of the world, and it’s not one that he can casually answer. But for some reason, Vincent doesn’t feel as if he has to think much to know the answer. He knows. He already knows. The world feels so much clearer through his eyes now, unconfused by life’s struggles.

“Yes,” he finally answers.

_It doesn’t hurt anymore._

Peter doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does. Nothing, but Vincent’s desire to be with Rasmus. He wanted to tell him everything. That he was sorry. That he wanted him. That Peter was a distant thought. But the words wouldn’t come out, however hard he willed himself. Reality feels warped, as if their surroundings disappeared under the weight of Rasmus’ touches. Shivering, Vincent leans closer, finally feeling no apprehension when their lips touch again.

It feels good.

It feels _right._

And somewhere amidst their chain of kisses, Vincent finally realizes something. Sure, he still feels some modicum of desire for Peter. Sure, it’s imperfect, and anything but ordinary, whatever relationship he calls _this._ And sure, maybe it would take a long time to finally get over Peter.

But none of that measures up to how he feels _now_.

With Rasmus in his arms. With someone who would accept him for everything that he is.

_I love him._

_Love._ It’s more than just pining after someone. It’s more than just feeling that pang of jealousy when their girlfriend walks in the room. It’s more than just lusting for them. It’s more than just fantasizing about being their boyfriend, about going on dates, about kissing them.

Because watching the tears gently roll down Rasmus’ perfect visage despite that brilliant smile, watching him _cry_ while trying to comfort Vincent speaks more than anything Vincent had ever done for Peter. It speaks for more than anything Peter would ever do for Vincent too.

It feels so incredibly silly and stupid. How it took so long to realize it. After every touch, every kiss, every night together. Vincent would sacrifice all of that just to realize how he felt sooner.

_I love him._

Rasmus is the first to pull away. His face is flushed, his breaths shallow, each of them discernable and countable. The room is dead silent, save for the soft, barely audible breaths that escape both of their lips, like listening to the song of the wind.

“jeg elsker dig.”

A warm smile finds its way on Vincent’s lips. He had heard that line before. Rasmus probably hadn’t even realized what language he spoke those words in. It must have been in the spur of the moment, emotional admission.

It was imperfect.

But it was untampered by translation, unfettered by barriers.

”What... Does that mean?” Vincent finally asks, the slight smile on his lips does not recede. He knows. He already knows. And even if he didn’t, he could have guessed it. But he still wanted to hear Rasmus say it. To say how he feels.

Vincent’s eyes scan the Dane’s, searching for reassurance. Once more, that warm, brilliant smile breaks over his perfect features. And when he speaks again, like golden chimes, he says everything that Vincent had ever wished to hear, and more.

”I love you.”

_I love you._

It’s not the first time Rasmus has said it. But it’s never carried this much weight. It’s never felt this genuine, felt this good. They’re just words. Words composed of letters of the Latin alphabet, yet its meaning is uncaptured by the definition of the words.

It means so, so much more.

Vincent’s eyes are locked on Rasmus again, once more finding nothing but the purest sincerity and warmth. This is the real deal. He doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. He doesn’t have to hide from the world.

He can be himself.

“ 我也愛你.”

Those are not words he thought he’d hear himself saying again. He couldn’t truly remember the last time he’s heard them. It feels awkward almost. But when his depths meet Rasmus’ once more, Vincent realizes that context had become all but unnecessary.

Rasmus definitely understands. Context speaks more than any language could.

But he asks anyways.

“And what does that mean?”

The waver in his tone is gone. The tears that once gently rolled down the Dane’s soft cheeks are long gone. There’s nothing but warmth in the way he speaks, in the way his perfect eyes speak volumes, the way his lips curl into the most beautiful smile Vincent has ever seen.

“I love you too.”

Those three words are so casually thrown around. Perhaps they mean nothing to someone. Perhaps they’re just words with definitions, with some kind of literary usage and meaning. But to Rasmus and Vincent, it’s entirely insufficient to express how they feel.

_I love you._

It means the whole world to them.

A promise. A vow.

 


End file.
